Home Is Where The Heart Is
by The Mists Of Night
Summary: Dick Grayson should never have died. It was the one thing they could still agree on, it should have been one of them. However now, they wished more than anything he was 6ft in the ground. AU Reverse Bat-Family.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just the plot.

Authors Note:

This is an AU where Dick Grayson was killed by the Joker, not Jason Todd. Dick is going to bat-shit slightly crazy. Read at your own risk. This is also Reverse Bat-family fic meaning Dick is the youngest and Terry (yes Terry McGinnis is in this story) is the oldest.

Warnings:

Slight gore, swearing, violence, character death. Rating may go up.

* * *

He sits, perched on the chair like a bird. A little bird a pretty bird, rocking back and forth and back and- 

I have to go in town he thinks, I need to get…he looks towards the wall. Sickly white clumps, peeling and cracked like shredded wheat. Green stains and mold crawling up the wall like his- 

Vivid colours of red, orange and yellow flare behind his eyes mixing with the laughter; cruel, high- pitched laughter. Pain. So much pain. A clock. Four, three, two- 

No one. Nothing. It was the weightlessness he always wished for. There was no gravity, he was flying, but he was on the ground. Crumpled. Lost. The mantra filled his mind incessantly, never ending. His pale fingers grabbed at raven locks slowly tugging. No. No. No. The laughter got louder and louder, an ugly crescendo. 

"Stop…please." 

He begged and pleaded on the floor crumpled. To what? To whom? Little broken bird, where are your wings? 

A Bat, black leathery wings surround him, cradle him. They mean safety, they mean home. What is home? They mean nothing now. The Bat left him, and he's drowning. Choking and coughing on the water, the life-giving liquid, it gives and it takes. Takes his soul? Takes his mind? He has nothing more to give. He wants the darkness back, the weightlessness. 

His pretty blues flutter open. When had they closed? His head leans to the side ears open, listening to the beautiful composition of his neighbours. Screams, crying, broken glass and thumping. A wife getting beaten by her husband, a daughter slapped by her mother, a child shooting her father through the chest…Beautiful pieces, all an artwork in their own way… 

They belong to him as well. He doesn't like sharing and they're his, all of them. The hero and the demon. The silent and the merry, the observer and the brash. And him. He was perched on a chair rocking back and forth and back, staring at the little pictures pinned with bloody crimson tacks, on his wall. His peeling, cracked wall. Like him? Pretty little picture they make. He giggled, reminiscent of another's own mad little gasps.

Time to go to town, he thinks as he flies of the chair.


	2. Chapter 1

Terry hated parties.

The lights in the Wayne Manor ballroom (were ballrooms still a thing?) were a soft, yellow illuminating on pristine white walls and marble tiles. Waiters gracefully weaved through the guests in crisp black suits holding expensive, delectable treats from some far of country with a name they could not pronounce. Sweet smelling flowers and expensive perfume pervaded the area, as soft jazz filled the room.

He wandered through the mass of chattering people, sending the occasional charming smile and 'thank you for coming' in in their direction. The incessant chattering of guests with too much money and no cares in the world was giving him a headache. Women hovered around him like flies- flies wearing Chanel No. 5.

"Hey honey, how 'bout you and me ditch this place and go have a little party of our own"

Terry looked at the woman. Plump red lip, thin arched eyebrows with thick lashes and a low cut gold dress that left little to imagination. Her arms were crossed under her, admittedly, voluptuous chest as she held her head high with a small smug smirk. She was any man's dream. Terry focused on her face, avoiding looking below the neckline. Any single man's dream, he thought. Terry stared at the woman in her half-lidded green eyes, award winning smile ready to let the woman down politely, when someone did it for him.

"I'm sorry, but this one's taken"

Dana Tan. Beautiful, feisty, smart and kind. Terry swallowed his grin, going for apologetic, even though he loved it when his girlfriend- make that soon to be fiancé if this night went smoothly- got possessive. Dana hooked her arm through Terry's pulling him away from the now gaping woman, only looking back to make one last comment.

"Oh and honey, you better close your mouth, don't wanna look too easy." The women shut her mouth before stalking away, probably looking for her next sugar daddy.

Terry had to disguise his amusement with an ill-timed cough at Dana's faux kind tone. God, she was beautiful when she got all sassy. However, she was terrible at hiding her annoyance as she pulled him to the edge of the room glaring at any onlookers who wanted to come close to the Wayne heir.

Reaching an out of the way table Dana let out a small groan of annoyance, her palm meeting her face as she glared at him through her fingers, like he was the problem. Well he was, but that really wasn't the point. "I hate these stupid parties. All these sluts always wanting to get into your-"

"Hey," Terry interrupted with a small, honest smile reserved only for family and Dana, gently taking her hand into his own larger, more calloused ones. "You know you're the only girl for me." Dana opened her mouth to respond when a deep, sarcastic voice broke in ruining the moment.

"Wow, you guys are disgustingly gross. Not even disgustingly cute, just gross."

Terry rolled his eyes in good-natured annoyance while Dana looked over his shoulder towards the tall figure leaning against the walls, smiling. Terry didn't even need to turn to look at man who spoke, just responding with a simple, "Jason, still a downright ass I see," his voice betraying how happy was to see his brother.

Dana kept smiling warmly at Jason giving him a once over as if checking that he was in one piece and unharmed. "Hey Jason, how've you been?"

Terry never understood Dana's fondness towards his younger siblings. Most of them were jerks- *cough* Damian and Jason *cough*- and irritating as hell. She was especially fond of-

Terry mentally shook himself to get rid of the lump in his throat and slight misting in his eyes. He still wasn't over it- hell he would never be over it. Terry knew why Jason had come back. In a few days it will officially be three years since _He's_ been gone. Terry looked at his brother taking in his rigid, tense shoulders and dark circles beneath red-rimmed eyes. Jason was always the closest to _Him_. He felt a bout of brotherly concern well up.

"So Dana, wanna ditch the loser and go dance with me?"

Any brotherly concern was immediately squashed as glared down at his little brother who wore that devil-may-care smirk like a mask, holding a hand out towards his girlfriend. He knew it was all an act. Jason had always felt the need to act like a jerk after _He_ died.

Obviously Dana noticed the act as well. She grinned deviously at Terry before winking at Jason and taking his hand, "It would be my honour," before walking off with his brother to the dance floor, leaving Terry alone. Jason…the little shit.

The two made an odd picture, Jason in worn jeans and a leather jacket as if woke up in a trailer park and Dana wearing a purple, silk dress and hair pulled into a graceful bun, looking like she belonged there.

"You know she's a keeper. Not just anyone can put up with this sorry excuse for a family."

What was up with all his siblings popping out of nowhere? Terry turned, watching as the large figure of his oldest, younger sibling step out of the shadows. Damian always had a way with theatrics.

Damian wore his typical blank mask- what Jason, Stephanie and _Him_ used to call his resting bitch-face. He walked over to stand next to Terry, both of them watching Jason and Dana 'dance' immediately taking the spotlight. Dana had her head thrown back in mirth, laughing as Jason swung them around, childishly, with a full-blown grin. Terry couldn't remember the last time he had seen Jason that carefree- actually he couldn't remember that last time he had seen anyone in his family that happy. Their family hadn't really been happy since-

Terry pushed away the dark thoughts, choosing instead to focus on his brooding brother who was looking at the duo dancing. At first glance Damian looked emotionless and hard as he looked at the two, like a brick- actually a brick probably showed more emotion than Damian. A correct comparison would be a bat. Terry snorted to himself, more like the Bat. Damian heard the snort and turned looking away from cheerful scene.

"Has Cass contacted you yet?" Damian said breaking the relaxed silence that had formed between them; eyes still watch the two dancing. Damian, always protective over those he cared about.

Terry looked at Damian curiously "No, why? Did something happen?" Terry's mind immediately skipped to the worst possible scenario. He felt his throat close as his heart beat faster. He couldn't lose another sibling. He just couldn't.

"No, she just said her flight is delayed and she might be a bit late." Damian looked apologetic- well as sorry as he could get- internally berating himself for his choice of words. He placed a hand softly on Terry's shoulder in a comforting manner. Damian's subtle, expensive cologne filled Terry's nose, as Damian stepped closer to him.

"Cass is not in any trouble." Damian tried for a smile that was way too much teeth and looked like he had an aneurism.

Terry let out a short laugh, which was more like a short burst of air at Damian's sorry attempt at comforting him. How can someone be so awkward? Terry couldn't help but make fun of his little brother. I mean come on; it had to be in the big brother rulebook. Plus he needed a way to defuse the tension that had befallen them.

"Wow, the one and only Damian 'Bitch-Face' Wayne being nice to little ol' me! When did hell freeze over?" Well maybe Terry was a little shit too. Must run in the family.

Damian pulled his hand back as if he were electrocuted, grumbling under his breath something that sounded reminiscent of stupid brother, and a few other choice words. His glower deepened when he noticed Terry's smug face, and resisted the urge to punch it.

Breathing deeply through the nose, his eyes became serious and calculating as remembered the other reason he came, eyes surveying the room. It wasn't Damian anymore. It was Renegade. Terry immediately sobered up noticing his brother's change in demeanour.

"I don't know if father had told you but, there have been a string of murders in Star, Central even Metropolis, all different weapons, no connection between victims, over 30 people dead." Damian looked at Terry to see his reaction. Satisfied by confused look on his brother's face he continued.

"The league has been looking it to it, but they've come up blank. Well that's not really that new, considering how useless they all are," Damian mumbling at the end going of tandem, after all he didn't really attempt to hide his hate towards superheroes who didn't operate in Gotham.

"Damian, focus."

Damian glared at his brother for his Bat like order before continuing, "criminals, civilians have all been killed," Damian's voice was hushed; his frown could be heard through his voice. Damian hated when he couldn't solve something. "The murderer seems to be killing at random."

Terry's brow furrowed, "If there's no connection then why are you so worried." Yes, murderers need to be stopped, but he didn't see why Damian seemed so…rattled? Terry observed his brother closely. Damian was worried about something.

Damian looked at him straight in the eye. Terry could clearly see the hardness in his eyes and the steel in his voice, "because on each of the victim the killer has carved an X."

Terry still frowned deeper, bewildered. Surely he was missing something, because yes, killers in Metropolis were rare, especially with Big Blue watching over the city, but it didn't seem super odd. Nothing the whole league should be worried about.

"And…"

Damian voice was grim. "Terry, the killer…they've been leaving slaughtered bats on their victims chests."

Well, it looks like proposing to Dana was going to have to wait.

* * *

 **AUTHORS NOTE:**

I swear its going to get better (at least I hope it will?). Hope you enjoyed :)


	3. Chapter 2

He watched in morbid fascination. So beautiful. Colours. So bright and vibrant and happy. So innocent. It reminded him of a happier time, a happier place. A time filled with children's laughter and glee, where he could fly and be himself surrounded by those who cared about him. A place with talented freaks who were glorified and loved for their queerness…only to be condemned and ridiculed by the ones that idolised them, later that night. He felt the heat simmer beneath his skin. Long felt pain and anger. He didn't like it when people were mean to those he cared about – those he staked claim over. His breathing became laboured, as he refocused on the spectacle before him.

He watched, heady, as the larger vehicle barrelled into another smaller car. He watched as the young couple were crushed, bodies caving in and bursting open simultaneously, on impact. He watched as the young man threw himself in front of the female in a sorry attempt to save her, trying to take the brunt of the force. He watched as their life slowly bled from bodies, eyes growing dimmer as they were cradled in each other's arms. He watched as a dark figure stepped out of the offending car and bash the glass windows, the glint of silver the only thing seen under pale, sickly moonlight. He watched as the figure drove off, business finished, towards the dark outline of spires and shadows.

For the first time in a long while he felt guilt, as he walked towards the car. He could have stopped it. It would have been easy. A quick snap of the neck and bash to the skull, here and there. He slowly held a pasty palm over the wreck, before leaving walking down the road. He never heard the wails of a newly made orphan protected by the couple's bodies. The child crying for a family that would never hold him again.

* * *

Jason lunged at Damian aiming for his head before being cut off by a sharp punch to his chest. He hit the floor, wind knocked out him as he let out a ragged gasp. Jason recovered quickly, kicking at Damian legs in an attempt to knock him off his feet only to be shut down by Damian wrapping his arm around his neck from behind and flipping him over his back. Jason landed harshly as his back met the training mat. He could already feel the bruises forming. Damian stepped on Jason chest, smirking victoriously down at his younger brother.

"Do you yield?"

Jason glared angrily at the male standing above him trying to push the offending leg off him. Jason couldn't help the low growl as he spat out his next words at the older male. "I yield! Now get the fuck of me!"

Terry stood next to the ever-silent Cassandra as they both watched the fight trying not to laugh – or in Cassandra's case a small, subtle grin. Terry walked to the middle of the Batcave where his brothers were fighting, shaking his head in amusement at both his brother's antics.

"Jason, what have we said about swearing," Terry said condescendingly at his little brother who had finally managed to get Damian off him, "It makes you sound like you're trying too hard."

Jason eyes widened as he looked indignantly at older siblings who were trying to hide their silent, shaking, looking like disappointed parents. They were ganging up on him. Cassandra sensing Jason rising annoyance she raised an eyebrow at her oldest brother, "Terry you always swear."

Terry grinned smugly at her, "I don't know what the _fuck_ you're talking about." Damian, not even trying to hide his amusement, was about to make a smart-ass remark when a rough, deep voice echoed around the large space.

"Suit up and be here in 10 minutes for debriefing."

Batman, who had just entered the cave, walked away from sobering young adults towards the Bat computer. He gazed around the cave, paranoid as always. Eyes wandered over the life-size T-Rex and giant penny, the different vehicles, before stopping on the glass case. A glass case containing torn, wrecked suit stained just a crimson shade darker than the rest of material used. His features darkened as he grew more stoic turning away from his biggest failure.

"What's going on Bruce?"

Bruce shook of his emotions turning to the younger caped crusaders standing before him. He took in the happier disposition of Nightwing who had spoken who stood comfortably next to the silent Black Bat.

"Yes father, you seem rather…high strung."

Bruce turned towards the apathetic voice, facing Renegade who was walking alongside the young man in a red helmet, Red Hood. Bruce looked calculating at the four vigilantes who stood before him, soldiers awaiting his orders. He turned back to the screen staring at the pictures of mutilated bodies, zooming in on the red lines that crisscrossed over their skin.

"You all know about the killer who has been going around carving X's on their victims faces." Bruce did not wait for their response staring at the screen solemnly.

"Whoever they are, they're here in Gotham. There have been 3 bodies found in the Gotham's vicinity bearing signs of the killer's ammo. Two middle-aged Anglo Saxon males have been found dead in the Bowery, while a couple has been found on the outskirts of the city limit. The couple seem to have been involved in a car crash, died on impact, while one of the men had been found with a slit throat, the other died by a gunshot to the head."

Cassandra interrupted Bruce's spiel stepping closer to the bat computer before looking closer at the young couple's file. Cassandra's frown, although not seen, was evident in the blunt, passive aggressive tone of voice. Bruce looked at the blank, darkness of her mask, body tensing at her words.

"They had a child."

Immediately all the vigilantes tensed, heated rage welled up quickly, breaking through the usually penetrating cold that hung around the Batcave. Bruce nodded, confirming their unanswered question. They take cases concerning orphans quite personally.

Jason cold voice broke through festering anger that filled the atmosphere like static in a storm. "Lets get this asshole."

* * *

They ended up splitting into groups to cover more ground, although Bruce doubted that the killer would strike again so soon. Damian and Jason ended up grouping together, both being ruthless and cutthroat in their fighting. Plus Jason's use of guns often caused disagreements and animosity with Terry and Bruce. Bruce flew off by himself his cape trailing behind him leaving without a word or glance in their direction. Bruce had become more solitary after _he_ died.

"Well, it's just you and me."

Terry turned to Cassandra who stood near the edge of roof looking solemnly out at Gotham. Terry could image what was going through her head. Skyscrapers and gothic spires burst from the ground, cantering around the edges of street. Smoke and fog bled out onto the paths and hung off citizen's like an extra layer of skin doing nothing to protect them from the bitter cold. Crumbling gargoyles waited on building, silent spectators listening to the happenings of rushing residents.

Terry should have hated the dark, claustrophobic hellhole he called home. However, Gotham always held a certain beauty, like that of an old whore. Once you looked past her weathered face and broken eyes, you could see grace and elegance in which the city held its self. She had a way of calling people back; no matter how hard they try to leave.

Terry was shaken out of his mulling by Cassandra's soft, understanding voice.

"It's time to go."

Terry and Cassandra spent the time fighting small time crooks and thieves; none of the Gotham's big players were out today.

"Head's up."

Cassandra ducked as Terry kicked the mugger, who was trying to sneak up behind her, in the face knocking him out cold. Cassandra knelt down next to the scruffy, weather-beaten man zip tying his wrists together, as he snored face down on the ground.

Terry stretched his arms above his head, bored, muscles rippling under his skin-tight, black and blue suit. "These guys were to easy I-" Terry let out a yawn, "didn't even have to exert myself."

Cassandra smiled under the mask as she finished securing the criminal, about to advise Terry that they should cut patrol short, when a scream broke through. It was a high-pitched scream of despair and fear. Whoever it was, was clearly in distress. Terry and Cassandra looked at each other before braking off into a sprint towards the source of the sound. Another ragged howl broke again, drawing goose bumps on their flesh. The wail kept going on and on and on…before it was abruptly cut short.

They skidded to a stop staring at the ashen brick walls, an eerie silence befalling the area. They didn't know what they were expecting to find, while they looked in the alleyway where the screams originated. There was body crumpled on the ground, scarlet splattering the walls like a grotesque Jackson Pollock painting. The unforgettable metallic tang of blood assaulted their noses as they watched a figure wrapped in shadows bend over the corpse of a young woman, surrounded by pool red.

Terry started towards the crouching figure, "what the hell are-"

The figure went still and turned around in jerky movements, like puppet pulled by stings, to face them. Moonlight hit the mysterious character's face making pale feature discernible. The assailant's body was obviously tensed and anxious, ready to spring away at the first sign of conflict.

Both Terry and Cassandra's throats locked as they forgot to breathe for a split second as they gazed upon the figure, their eyes widening under the lenses of their masks.

"Dick?"

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I just want to say thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favourite and followed this story, it really means a lot :) I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The story is still a bit slow, but it should be getting faster soon, after I finish with the exposition stuff. Until next time…


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